Epona's Tale
by Faolanfan
Summary: Learn of the never before told story of Epona's past, the majestic and loyal mare who has never let her master fall. In return, Link has decided to tell the world the life he and his horse have shared.
1. Introduction

My story has been told. I am revered in this land, the tale of my journeys and deeds cherished and extolled. You probably have heard of it, even if you don't recognize me. The tale of the keeper of the golden power of legend, he who purged this land of the darkness and evil that once covered it as thickly as the storm clouds darkening the sky above the puddles formed by the rain. I thought so. Not many haven't heard of the swordsman in green; the green tunic of the same hero who saved this land generations ago. No, my story has been told, unlike that of my loyal and courageous companion. The one who stayed at my side, helped me through this dangerous and wild land, made even more perilous by the Twilight. The one who truly loved me, no matter my form, be it blond haired blue eyed hylian, or a monstrous wolf. Let me tell you the widely unknown story of my dear horse, Epona.

 **Hope you enjoyed this little intro! Could you guess who's telling it? I'll get working on the next bit right away! If you have anything you'd like to know about Eponai (my pet name for her) just ask the question! I'll try my best to answer it in a part of the story!**


	2. Welcome Epona to the World

**To fully tell her story, we need to start at the very beginning. I must have been five years old. Twelve years ago now, but I can still remember it as vividly as if it were just happening now.**

It was a day late in the spring. I had kneeled by her mother in the arid stable, the hay prickling my knees. Even today, I can still feel the soft fur, heated by her febrile skin, under my hand. I had laid that small pale hand on her belly as the mare stood in the stall, her large belly that held what was soon to be a beautiful filly. I had spent all my time with the pregnant animal, a horse that was not even mine, that I had never felt close to until that spring. It might have been my blood that pushed me to feel compassion towards that strange creature, the knight's blood coursing through me. In Hyrule's past, horses had been the beast of the nobles, and only the sovereigns of the land had owned these mighty animals. The knights, protectors of the crown, had been the ones to ride the horses, to grow fond of them. Generations of knights have ridden into battle on the backs of mighty steeds, and each returned bonded with the animal like none other. Being the son of such high class individuals, I must have inherited the affection towards horses shared by all knights of Hyrule before me. What else would have driven me to sacrifice my own health for that of two animals I didn't know?

That year had been a harsh one for our small village, isolated in a clearing in the middle of a vast and dangerous woodland and all but overlooked by the royal family. The winter had been long, and brittle. It had been cold compared to the winters of other years. Despite Rusl's warnings to stay indoors, where it was safe and warm by the fire, ever since I learned of the mare's pregnancy I spent all the time I could with her. I refused to leave the gestating horse alone in the cold, dry stable. As the winter drew on, and vegetation became scarcer and scarcer, I began to worry for the poor animal's nutrition. Even my simple, young mind knew that the mare was not eating enough, and that the developing foal was in peril. So I began to eat less, stuffing the vegetation from my meals into my pockets and hurrying it out to the horse. My adoptive parents began to worry, as I was spending most of my time out in the bitter cold and was thinning. Once the winter ended, our situation did not improve. The spring was hot and dry, the large lake shrinking to but a third of it's original size. The river running through the center of the village had disappeared, and so had our leisurely use of water. There was so little we had to ration it. I sacrificed much of my own share to give to the mare. By the time the unforgettable day came around, I was thin, pale and dehydrated. My health had greatly diminished, but I knew even then it was worth it.

How could I forget that wonderful day near the end of spring? As a filly, Epona was beautiful; a deep golden color with a broad white blaze on her face and black mane and tail, and her beauty only increased with age. I was alone in the stall, watching with awe as the new born foal stumbled around. I knew I had to go get Fado, mayor Bo, someone, but I didn't want to leave them, lest something happened to the delicate filly. So I stood there, calming the agitated dam as Epona nursed, keeping her from harming the new life until Ilia came in. I remember how her eyes lit up upon seeing the two, then she turned and ran off, soon returning with her father and the ranch owner. Thankfully, all the horses were fine, and Epona has grown into an astounding horse, my loyal steed.


	3. Our Connection, and Some Festivities

In only a year, Epona had grown into a fine young mare, her golden fur darkening to a beautiful chestnut, and her mane paling to a smokey grey. Her life had so far been uneventful, but to the whole village it was clear who's steed she was. Epona and I were inseparable, and I had whined and complained when Rusl had declared that she was not allowed indoors. My incessant protests had worked, and Epona had been granted access to our house. No matter where else I went, the filly followed, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

No one else really understood how deep our affection towards each other was. To the average person's eyes and mind, it would seem she followed me because I was the first human with her. In a way they would be right, but I pity those who were blind to the rest of it. We had bonded quickly and in an unusual way; I myself do not know how it came to be. We came together not in a desperate design for survival, not in a time of war, nor over loved one's dead bodies. In a way, it must have strengthened our bond, for I know of no knight who shared the skill we possess.

While most riders would use reins and spurs to control the horse, Epona and I had a more bilateral relationship. I did not control her, and she did not serve me. When we were young, I would sit upon her bare back, my hands on her powerful shoulders. We would wander around the village like that, ever since she was strong enough to support my weight. I never pressed my heels to her sides to urge her onward, nor did I pull at her mouth to slow her or turn. Our destination was always mutual, and we communicated without a sound. When we rode, we were no longer two individual lives. We were one.

When Epona was almost a year old, I had spent hours at the table, pencil in hand and paper stacked high as the horse trotted around me. One morning, as snow fell outside, I strapped thin branches to the filly's narrow head, and grabbing Rusl's large bag, we went out riding. Each time we passed a villager, I would reach into the bag and pull out a card I had made, each one specially made for each recipient. Epona would pause each time we needed to, but for most of the deliveries we could hand out the card as we trotted past. A myriad of those cards were addressed to a "Merry visiting stranger". I handed out not a one of those, but they were fun to make nonetheless.


	4. Epona's Parents

Epona and I share a similar past. We were both orphaned, and both share imperial blood. Her sire, a magnificent bay stallion, had belonged to the royal family as a colt, his parents being regal commutes and ridden by his majesty himself. Mayor Bo had been granted the steed, as he was a powerful individual. Her dam was a black mare with a bright white mane and tail, and had been the mount of a knight who had fallen in battle. Looking at that stunning mare, I sometimes wondered if the knight had been my father. From what I had heard from Fado, the knight had been felled at a time near my father's death, which has aroused my suspicions though Rusl refuses to tell me how my father died, even now.

Though Epona had been delivered safely, and unlike my mother, hers was safe in the aftermath of the filly's arrival, her dam had died soon afterwards, for reasons still unknown. It could have been from malnourishment, or from illness. She could have died from a cause more emotional; stress, or the pain of the loss of her master. And yet it could have simply been from age, as no one knew how old she was. Her sire's death, however, had a clear cause. Bo had been riding through Faron with his daughter Ilia sitting on the saddle in front of him. The poor horse had tripped and was flailing and kicking, attempting to roll itself over on it's barrel like body to rise on his legs again. While the stallion was struggling to rise, a beast had attacked, killing the horse. Luckily, the father and daughter had been a little ways away to avoid getting kicked by the horse. I was there when they came running back, Ilia sobbing with her face buried in her father's shoulder. Bo had left her with Epona and I while he and Rusl returned to slay the beast. Epona had helped to calm Ilia, and since then the girl has adored my mare. Since that day, Epona has been the only horse living in Ordon village.


	5. Our New Home

By the time she was one and a half years old, Epona had grown into a breathtaking mare. Her soft fur was a deep chestnut, her long mane a pale flaxen. She was a majestic animal, even in the way she held herself, with confidence. Her regal bearing turned heads as we passed, her steps were always smooth and even, with her narrow head with that stunning white blaze held high. When we rode through the village, it seemed the sun shone solely to shine down on us. Her barrel like body was powerful; you could see the muscles rippling under her thin fur. Her long legs ended in large hooves, and those limbs that once held her like toothpicks had widened. In fact, she had grown into all her unproportional features, becoming purely beautiful.

However, with her age, she also got larger, and eventually she was too large for our small house. She was too large to begin with, too large for an energetic animal, but we got around. However, she had grown considerably since Rusl had allowed her into the house, and there was no longer enough room for her, Rusl, Uli, and I. And so Epona had been cast out of the house, to sleep in the barn at Fado's ranch. That had been the beginning of many sleepless nights. I couldn't seem to slip away into my dreams without the horse standing over me, her moist breath tepid on my face, and in the rare occasion I did, they were nightmares laced with horrifying monsters. I remember jolting awake and sitting up in bed, only to see Epona was absent and burst into tears. In my groggy state, it had slipped my mind that the horse was safe in the lonely ranch, and I had truly believed the nightmarish beasts of my imagination had slain the mare. Not being able to endure the rupture in our affinity, I began to sneak out at night, sleeping in the stall with Epona. Soon I wasn't returning to the house at all, Uli bringing my food to the ranch for me.

Just outside the village, I had a small clubhouse in a clearing of the forest. It was nestled in a tree, with a ladder leading up to it. Once I stopped returning to our house, I also stopped venturing to that little lair. Rusl had taken that time to fix it up in secret, and one day he brought Epona and I to that cozy little clearing. There was a new fence cutting off the path to the village, and the clubhouse had been enlarged drastically. It had gained two new levels; a second floor and a basement. It had gained a beautiful sloped roof with blue shingles, and there was also a new sign reading "Link's House." I hopped off Epona, and Rusl lead her over to a little nook in the clearing, filled with long, soft grass. A perfect little home. Rusl had even filled the house with furniture; a bed, carpets, photographs of Epona. It had a kitchen with a table and a cooking fireplace. I moved in that day, and ever since then I would wake up and look out my window down at Epona. I still cherish that morning routine.


	6. The Horse Call

The horse call is probably the greatest gift I've ever received. I doubt if anything else could best it. Epona has always loved the sound of the horse grass, and now I have my mare's favorite tune conserved in a beautiful charm made by Ilia that I can wear around my neck. If I get into an unpleasant situation, or I'm just feeling down, I just lift the charm to my lips and blow. I treasure those sweet, resonant notes, so full and pure.

Ever since I was young, I always had a soft spot for music. If I was walking with someone, a common thing for me to say was "Listen. Listen to the frogs singing with the river, and the birds! They've joined in too! The bees seem happy, hear their buzzing? They sing such a pretty song together." The only other being in the village who seemed to share my fondness for, to other's ears, but sounds at most, was Epona. She put her hooves down to the beat the frogs, birds and bees had already laid out for us.

I had been practicing for a while, and so one day I learned how to play music from grass. I had always loved the sound of the wind whistling through it. I played every grass and reed I could find, but I found that there was one certain plant that brought joy to my young mare. It became known as the horse grass, for it's brown stem ended in a shape not unlike a horse shoe. The reed was hollow, and when I blew into it, it created powerful notes that came out strong and rich. I played a sweet melody on those grasses, a lilting tune that the whole village came to know as Epona's song. Epona, Ilia and I would laze by the Ordon springs, the mare standing in the clear, shallow water as the girl rinsed her soft fur and I played the horse grass, laying in the soft white sand. I know that it brings all three of us back to those good summer days by the water when we hear that cristal tune, back to when we would hear it ring out above the soft rush of the waterfall and the water lapping at the shore.


	7. Little Creatures

The land of Hyrule is inhabited by many creatures. Gorons and Zoras live peacefully alongside us. However, there are many monsters who threaten the peace of the kingdom. It can be a dangerous place to live, Hyrule, and you may ask why the people haven't left to find a safer home, free of the bloodthirsty beasts who lay siege to villages and slaughter travellers. The answer is simple.

Among all the dangers, there is a species that drew the first hylians to this land. Fairies flutter around the fields, through the trees, over the water. Their wings hold a special power, that of health. Just the smallest brush of the wing against your skin can heal minor wounds, and longer and more powerful contact can save lives, bringing people back from the brink of death. I've met many fairies during my adventures, hiding in the long grass, pots, and even skulls. They've saved me time and time again.

One day, Epona and I were walking through Faron woods. We were young, and I must say, rather stupid. We were bored with the sunlight, tired of soft grass. We wanted adventure. When we came across a cave, Epona stepped inside without a second thought. It was dark, but that didn't turn us back. Her hooves like rolling thunder as her steps echoed off the dank walls, Epona carried me past cobwebs broken and trailing, past stalactites dripping with water, further and further away from the light and safety. Finally, we were so deep in the cave it was too dark to see at all, and it was then that fear began to sink in. Epona was stomping and snorting, and I was walking around her, keeping my trembling hand on her soft fur at all times. I didn't want to leave her, in case I lost my dear horse. Spiders scuttled around us, sending chills down my spine. And so we began to walk, side by side, down the dark tunnels.

It was hopeless. It must have been hours that we were lost in the tunnels, and still no sign of the outside. As my outstretched hands touched a cold stone wall again, my foot nudged something. I looked down, squinting in the low light, to see that I had touched a skull. It sent a shiver down my spine, thinking that I might end up like that poor soul. Just when the last of my hope trickled away, a light began to shine from the empty sockets of the skull. In my fear, I had stumbled backwards, falling and scraping my arm on the rough stone. A fairy flew from the skull, glowing a bright pink as her transparent wings beat the stale air. The sparkling wings grazed my arm, sealing the wound, and as the fairy flew around the two of us, I felt safe and hopeful. Following the ball of pink light, Epona and I made it to the exit, and we quickly got home. The fairy saved us from a horrible death, either from starvation or being attacked by one of Hyrule's many monsters.


	8. The Wooden Sword

One day, when I was around eleven years old, Rusl gave me a sword. That day changed my whole life. It was a wooden sword, it's hilt was long and round, with green fabric wrapped around and with green paint on the blade. It was dull when I was learning to use it, but he sharpened it soon. Epona was rather interested in it when I showed it to her. She ran her soft nose along the flat of it, and nibbled at the fabric on the handle. Since then, we had been heroes in our eyes, riding out into Faron to take on any and all monsters. We rode faster now, so I used tack, but I only used one hand to hold the reins, the other was always grasping my sword. Our adventures were our little secret, and we told no one about the expeditions into the woods, until now, I suppose. Epona was strong and courageous, and what more could I ask from her?

As you know, Faron is populated by bokoblins. Epona and I were out in Faron woods, jumping around as gracefully as if Epona had grown wings, when my foot slipped from the stirrup. Not having the chance to regain my balance, I fell to the ground with a hard thud. I remember seeing Epona rear up and whinny in pain as my sword slid down her shoulder as I fell. When I hit the ground, my head slammed on a large stone and I passed out.

I came to with Epona's nose in my face, her breath warm and moist. I pushed her away and tried to stand up, but the movement was dizzying. Suddenly she was at my side, and I used her powerful body to climb to my feet. Her leg was sticky with blood from where my sword had cut her, but she didn't show the pain that I knew she was feeling. I could feel it myself when I touched her. Once I was standing and my vision had cleared, I looked around the clearing. The stone and the ground around it was stained with my blood, and I could feel the hot crimson drops rolling down my face. The rock had split my skin when I hit it. Around the clearing, there were a few strange lumps, and as I narrowed my eyes, I could make out the shapes of bokoblins, laying awkwardly on the ground. On each of them, there was a horseshoe shaped cut somewhere on their bodies, and some had more. Too exhausted to pay much attention to anything, I tried to climb into the saddle, but my legs were weak. Sympathy in the horse's dark eyes, she walked over to a fallen tree trunk that I could use as a step to get my foot in the stirrup. It worked, and I swung my leg over the other side and hugged Epona's neck. She walked slowly and carefully back to my house, but I had passed out again.

The next time I came to, Epona's nose wasn't in my face, and instead of lying beside a bloodstained rock, I was lying in my bed, at home. When I sat up, two voices chorused from below. "Don't you dare get out of bed!" Ilia and Rusl shouted. I obeyed, settling back down under the covers. My hand found it's way to my head, where the rock had cut it, and found soft bandages covering the wound. Ilia hurried up to where I was, sitting on the floor next to my bed. I smiled at her and she smiled back. She reassured me that Epona was fine too, that the cut from the sword wasn't too deep and I mustn't worry, that we would both heal quickly and soon be out riding again. It was the best thing I heard all day.


	9. Fado's Ranch

Epona and I enjoy our job at Fado's ranch, possibly even more so now than when we began. The sunny summer afternoons spent riding around herding goats, lazing in the long grass in the shade, or jumping the fences Fado set up. There was always something fun to do.

When we started our job, I was fifteen, and Epona was a full grown haflinger mare. Her flaxen chestnut fur was almost radiant, and her frosted mane cascading down her long majestic neck reminded me of the foamy waterfall in Ordon Springs. Now I have greater to compare it to, as I lived in a small world before my adventure, having never been outside the southernmost area of Hyrule.

We were very proficient at our job, herding the goats into the barn by charging them and shouting, frightening them into running with the ruckus we made. One day, when I was ill, I didn't work. I didn't even leave my house. The next day, however, Fado thanked me for training Epona so well. I was confused, because I had never given training Epona the smallest thought. She was a tame and obedient horse by nature. It turned out, Epona had remembered how our daily routine worked, and gone to the ranch on her own, to gallop around whinnying and snorting to chase the goats into the barn. I spoiled her with treats the day I learned of her actions.

Once the job was done, we would ride around a bit, letting Epona cool off. Then I would dismount and head over to the cliff face that cradles the ranch with Epona following behind. We would relax there, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for long hours, until the sun dipped below the peaks of the mountains and bled orange and pink into the sky. What I did depended on the day, but with Epona it was always the same. Wander around grazing, not getting too far from me, and occasionally snorting, flicking her tail, or nudging my shoulder with her soft velvety nose as if in response to something I said. When that happened I would laugh, and stroke her nose gently. I spent the day talking to her, about what, it doesn't matter. I know, and Epona knows, and we are the only souls who need to.

When we finally decided to leave and head home, I would climb into the saddle, and ride Epona around until she was warmed up and ready to go, and Fado had finished setting up the second fence and closed the gate to the ranch. Then we would jump the fences and gallop down the path, wishing Fado a goodnight. It had only happened once that Epona stumbled, and when she did, we rested for a bit before trying again, but normally Epona cleared the fences without trouble. She couldn't have jumped them better with wings.


	10. Valentine's Day

Snow was falling in great, big flakes outside my house when I had an idea. I ran over to Rusl and Uli's house and grabbed a rose from the vase on the table. I ran back and gave it to Epona. Stroking her soft velvety nose, I whispered in her ear my gift's destination. With a small nicker, the horse was off.

I love Ilia. I have for a long time, but it took me a while to work up the courage to tell her. Having the courage to slay monsters? Easy. Having the courage to travel so far from home? No problem. But ask anyone (I am no exception) if they like anyone, and they won't be too eager to answer with a name, and it's even harder to say it to that person's face. That's why I had Epona bring Ilia a rose. So she could never see how nervous I was about telling her how I felt.

Epona returned quickly with another rose. I took it eagerly, grinning so much my cheeks hurt. WIth frigid fingers I pulled off the note that was attached to it. It read: "I like you too, Link.". I quickly ran to grab some paper, and I wrote back: "Good to know." with a little heart. Back and forth the messages came, and on each one was a doodle of a heart. Each time, that drawing got bigger, until finally it took up the entirety of the note Ilia sent me. It was getting late at that point, so I made a decision.

Climbing onto Epona's back, without a saddle or reins, and with a blanket wrapped over my legs and Epona's haunches, I rode to Ilia's house, the rose cradled delicately in my fingers, with a note attached to its stem. I slid off Epona and ran to the door, knocking on the cold wood. Ilia answered, and without a word I gave her the rose. She took it with a smile, and slipped the note off its stem, unfolded the paper, and read what I had written.

I had used the same paper as her last note. She had drawn a beautiful, simple heart taking up the whole little page. Inside the heart, I added a message. I wrote in the nicest writing I could: "Be mine?"

After reading it, she smiled at me, and I smiled back, a little unsure of what was happening. Then she pulled me into a great embrace, and I wrapped my arms around her too. In a soft whisper in my ear, she told me that she would be mine, and that there was nothing she'd rather be right then. I think she's still mine.


End file.
